


Outlaws of Love?

by islasands



Series: Lambski [53]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Outlaws of Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:12:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a long journey...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outlaws of Love?

It was a long day of constant coming and going followed by a long night. At dawn they sat and waited, too tired to talk. Sauli gradually slid down and sprawled on the couch, his head in Adam’s lap. Adam tapped the arm of the couch with one hand and with the other absentmindedly stroked Sauli’s hair away from his forehead. What a long journey it had been.

_And so much of it had been underground, subterranean, making their way in the dark, holding onto to one another for dear life whenever they sensed, rather than knew, that on either side of their pathway there were cliffs that fell away into empty space. Then there were the times when it all became too much, and they walked with distance between them, and became querulous, lonely, exhausted by each other’s company. Longing for the sun._

Adam checked his watch and then the clock on the wall. Sauli stirred, nestling into his lap. Adam looked down at him for a moment then put his head back, taking in a breath and breathing it out in a slow exhalation of emotion. Sauli still had that effect on him, after all this time. Still made a shock occur in his chest that sent waves through his entire body, making his nostrils flare, and his upper lip press down, and his eyes feel like darkened rooms, lit only with lamps.

_How anyone could despise their love was beyond him. It was like despising a garden that grew the same trees and shrubs, flowers and vegetables as the garden next door, was tended by the same human hands, watered by the same rain, blessed by the same light – and harvested with the same intention to share - but nonetheless despised. Their labour was not valued. Their joy was frowned upon. But it was the same kind of garden. The same kind of house. Didn’t they equally share the gladness of coming home, of seeing yellow squares shining in the dark, and hearing music and voices spilling out of an open door, and going outside to admire the moon for her graceful walk, the stars for their diligent twinkling, the wind for its careless caress?_

Soon. She said soon. Adam gently jostled Sauli awake. He sat bolt upright. Adam laughed. Sauli’s hair was on end, curving over in one direction like a wave. “Soon,” he said, kissing the tip of his nose.

_And suddenly Bora Bora was right there before his inner eye and he was walking down a pier towards Sauli who was sitting at the end of it, dangling his legs over the side. He paused, looking at the way Sauli was leaning on his arms, tilting his head back to receive the sun. He suddenly felt that the immensity of the Pacific sky arching above him and the vastness of the sea that lay ahead were watching him, looking him over, wondering what he would do. Slow down, they seemed to be saying. You’re no more important than a cloud, or a wave, or a shout of laughter, or a song. You’re as significant as a pebble on a beach. Slow down. Enjoy it. You’re allowed._

_Slow down? How? He had been running headlong into a life and a career he had hardly believed possible. He had developed strengths he never knew he had. The arms of his inner man had hardened from drawing so many buckets of determination out of his core. The knock backs and obstacles  – and there had been plenty – had not achieved their aim; he had kept running, undeterred, into the land he was claiming. He wasn’t running for a vision or a dream. He was running for his heart land._

_And now he was walking slowly down a pier in the middle of nowhere to - Sauli._

_Sauli._

“When do we go?” Sauli asked.

“Soon. Very soon.”

“My waiting is on my heart,” Sauli put his hand on his chest.

Adam put his arm around him. “You know, I’m not sure now. About the yellow.”

“It is sunshine.”

“Yes, but too much sunshine can give you sunstroke.”

“I like the stroke.”

“Not that kind of stroke. A headache. Maybe blue would have been better.”

Their conversation was interrupted by hurried footsteps and urgent voices.

_Yes, Bora Bora was when he knew and became afraid. But then the laughter came and his fears dissipated, hissing and popping like foam from a wave. The sea in his heart became so clear he could see the bottom. There were a couple of wrecks down there, but now he could see that they were covered with algae and barnacles and waving weeds. His memories swam in and out of them like brightly coloured fish. Yes, he was ready to love and be loved._

They sat closely together, trembling inwardly as though in the aftermath of a final and majestic piano chord. They looked down and then at each other and then back down again. Voices spoke to them but they couldn’t hear them. Lights were turned down but they didn’t notice. People gathered around them and dispersed but they didn’t hear or see anything. They were the most alone they had ever been. They could have been on a pinnacle of rock in the middle of the ocean, in the midst of a wild tempest, and still have remained still. They were locked in a moment so completely and utterly their own, even gods, if they existed, could not have broken the spell.

“Our son,” Adam said, at length, and a single tear rolled down Sauli’s cheek.

_His mother had made the house ready with flowers and food and lamplight. Friends had arrived. Music was playing. It was a clear and starry night. As they climbed the stairs there was a waft of fragrance from the herb garden and then from the big pots of lavender. The doors were open and they paused on the deck, listening to the music and laughter._

_“We are home, my loves,” Sauli said, protectively tucking the shawl around their son’s sleeping head._


End file.
